


Duo

by mujien



Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Unfinished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 09:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mujien/pseuds/mujien
Summary: The Huntsman and Fiver set out to stop a longtime rival: the Teostra.





	Duo

"There."

The A-Lister beckons, gloved hand outstretched towards the gathering of emerald scoutflies. 

Tracks. Teostra tracks, to be precise. She recognizes them by the unique, four-toed pawprints engraved into the soil. The scoutflies adorn the outline of the marking, their green glow illuminating the monstrous crater. 

Beside her, a man grunts in acknowledgement. Large and armor-clad, he carries himself with what knowledge and seniority the A-Lister lacks.

"Old. The mud has gone hard...." He trails off, observing as the scoutflies swarm about the indentation. The woman catches his stare (even behind that old helm) and a smile adorns her face.

"The scent is fading. They're trying to pick it back up," she explains.

The man simply scoffs at her response. "You new hunters and your scoutflies. You rely too much on them."

The woman extends a hand towards the print, tracing her fingers along the hardened mud. _Larger than normal._

"Forty years ago," he continues, "I would have hunted the beast with my natural skills alone."

"Strange, because the Research Commissioner told me you were eyeing the newest batch on his desk...." 

The man clears his throat behind his helmet, quickly storming past her. His heavy armor clinked with each step. "I was simply curious. Let's get moving."

The old man was long since set in his ways. Through his forty years of hunting in the New World, he'd witnessed the technological advancements of the Commission; however, he still denied the convenience of scoutflies, and the precision engineering of the slingers. The A-Lister could not yet decide if his decision was due to petty arrogance, or a steaming sense of pride and accomplishment. 

After all, there were very few Hunters of the first fleet that still lived to tell the virgin tales of the New World. The A-Lister could only dream of what research had occurred: from the terrain to the unique flora, to even the ornery beasts that prowled among it all.

One such creature was their current target: _an elder dragon _. She shivered in anticipation.__

____

____

The Teostra was not a being to trifle with. Writhed in flames, the elder dragon's brutal temperament and deadly nature put it near first in the Commission's watchlist. 

The Huntsman was one of few men lucky enough to best it in battle. His armor remained long scarred by the Elder Dragon's onslaught; deep gashes proof of the beast's blighted claws. His respect for the mighty being was the only connection that kept him from repairing those permanent blemishes. It remained an unspoken rule that the Commission as a whole recognized, with even the blacksmith himself resigning from offering a necessary upgrade. 

His long-standing respect for the Teostra only furthered his burning desire for a true rematch. 

The A-Lister shouldered her glaive and shuffled after him, sinking into the Wildspire sand as they walked. A veil of silence hung between the two, unwavering, as they looked only towards the dawning hunt.

"You noticed it too, right?" she finally spoke.

The man gave a low hum behind his helmet. "What do you mean?"

"How big it was."

"Hmm." The Huntsman continued forwards, unyielding to the desert soil. The A-Lister opted to take his lack of response as a bemused _yes_.

She thumbed the collar of her jacket, pulling the turtleneck further up in a half-hearted attempt to best the wind. She was sick of the dust and heat, and her custom Kadachi armor wasn't particularly helping her case. Maybe in the cool alpines of the Coral Highlands, but never here. Yet despite her distaste for the hot sands of the Wildspire, she couldn't help but harbor a fondness for the familiar sights.

The Huntsman shambled to a halt, his head turned towards the massive ant spires of the valley. 

Fiver could only observe in silence as he ran an armored hand along the craggy structure. 

"I didn't know the colonies were partial to our mission."

"They're not," he responded gruffly. He jabbed a finger towards one of several deep gashes, breaking the natural pattern of the spire. "These, here."

Fiver moved closer, tugging the goggles up from her eyes. "Claw marks?"

"So it seems."

She ran her hand along the deep indentations as the Huntsman turned away, diverting his attention to the parched landscape. Bits of rubble and sand came loose into the palm of her leather gloves. A good sign, as it meant that it was recent, where the rain had not yet eroded away the debris. 

It was extremely likely he was marking his territory to ward off other apexes like Diablos; or maybe it feared a Nergigante attack like the other Elder Dragons.

How strange.

"Get back."

Fiver looked up towards the Huntsman, irritated yet surprised with his sudden outburst. "What are you on about?"

"I said to get. _Back!_ "

The Huntsman's arm collided hard with her chest, and the man managed to easily haul her backwards with him. Below the pair, the sand began to sink downwards into a shallow pit. Fiver threw her hands up, shielding her face from the tide of earth flung towards the pair. The ground threatened to give out below them with a sudden tremor.

The glaive-wielder fumbled with her belt, desperately searching for the vessel she needed. Fingertips met a small container, which she managed to rapidly jam into the back of her slinger. 

"Move!"

She shoved the Huntsman to the side, her tailbone connecting hard with the ground as the wasteland gave out beneath her. Her slinger sprung free with a click of a finger, sending the screamer pod into the pit with an inaudible thud. Although imperceptible to the ears of the hunters, the high frequency of the pod was enough to send the Diablos rearing from the sand.

Fiver scrambled backwards up the side of the pit as the ground below her shuddered with the beast's resurfacing. Trapped halfway between layers, the apex monster released a devastating roar, massive wings scrambling to escape its self-made trap. 

The Huntsman was already into the fray. He brought his wyvern blade down upon the beast with one hand on the hilt, the jagged sword embedding itself into the worn skin of the Diablos. The mighty roar it released had Fiver covering one ear, her free hand clenching the glaive used to support her body. In a gust of sand and wind, the beast hauled itself out of the hole, momentarily airborne as it hovered over the pair. 

Fiver was horrified for a moment, watching the creature towering over the Huntsman, but her partner was quick to roll out of the way before the beast could bring its massive weight down upon him. The hunter deftly sheathed her glaive upon her back before taking off towards the bipedal beast. She fumbled carelessly through her waistband pack, eyes locked on the desert monster as it prepared for another strike at the Huntsman.

A thud. A click. 

The flash pod she was searching for detonated in front of the Diablos before it could bolster its momentum for another swing. It reared back, turning from its target and releasing a deafening roar to the heavens above.

No words were needed between the two hunters for her partner to recognize his opening. The Huntsman broke into a sprint towards the beast, building the momentum necessary to drop himself into a slide along the slope the Diablos had produced. Fiver could only gape in awe as the armor-clad man pushed himself off the earthen slope of the pit, unsheathing his wyvern blade and bringing it down upon the beast in an alarmingly brutal overhead strike. 

The mammoth brute's head snapped low in recoil, massive horns nearly grazing the dry earth. The Huntsman's back hit the ground with a thud heavy enough to stun even the most veteran of hunters.

Fiver reared her glaive forwards, the tip of the massive spear biting into the earth- and then she was airborne, vaulting herself above the massive beast with the mobility her partner so lacked. 

A flurry of pheromones from the butt of her staff announced her arrival to the battlefield, coating the Diablos' hide in a sheen of paste. The kinsect attached to the front of her gauntlet broke free in a flurry of wings, fluttering off towards her target and disappearing in a gust of sand and wind. 

"Get up!"

She hit the ground next to her partner in a precise crouch and immediately set to stirring him with an amalgamation of shakes and taps.

A low groan signaled that he was, indeed, still alive. "Worry not.... It takes more than that to wound this old hunter. Get back into the fight."

"This isn't our mission-"

The Huntsman's coughs echoed behind his metal helmet. "Let us fight. The Teostra will come, and we shall announce our arrival in a blaze of glory."

**Author's Note:**

> This was a quick, one-shot ficlet that I came up with on the spur of the moment. It likely won't be finished past what is already done. Sorry guys. :(


End file.
